


A Matter of When

by JosephineStone



Series: My Dark/Hurt fics [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: darkwitches, Depression, F/F, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne is recently released from the hospital for depression, and is finding it difficult to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of When

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://arjd.livejournal.com/profile)[**arjd**](http://arjd.livejournal.com/)  
>  and edited by [](http://tu-es-mi-amour.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tu-es-mi-amour.livejournal.com/)**tu_es_mi_amour**  
> 

  
It didn’t occur to Daphne until after four years of therapy and three months out of the hospital that she could have been the pretty sister had she tried. Astoria spent more time on her appearance. Everyone said she was the pretty one, but Astoria always commented on how she wished she was taller and built more like her sister.

‘Daphne’s hair is so healthy; just look at it,’ Astoria would say as she combed her fingers through her hair. Daphne never mentioned it was healthier, because she never put any products in it to force it to look a certain way. Daphne knew in theory if she took the time she could make her hair look just like Astoria’s, but in practice—she had no idea what she was doing. Daphne was too embarrassed to ask, and the little advice she did get from magazine was useless, so she decided it was safer to simply not care.

Astoria was the baby of the family, and their parents doted on her. For the longest time, Daphne thought Astoria paid so much attention to her and complimented her, because she felt guilty for how hard their parents were on her to try and make up for it. Despite this, Daphne and Astoria had a good relationship. They weren’t the type to have a petty rivalry, and perhaps the only complement Daphne had ever heard her parents receive on their parenting was that Astoria and Daphne never fought.

However, Daphne mused as Astoria petted and cuddled and simply loved on Pansy—on Daphne’s Pansy—that was just how Astoria was. It was never pity; it was genuine love.

She could taste the bile in the back of her throat as she fought not to vomit. Their parents were so _understanding_ and _sympathetic_. They would never want to make Astoria feel unwanted for something out of her control, for simply loving someone. That they didn’t want her to go through what Daphne had was left unsaid. It was so obvious she loved Pansy.

It was obvious, too, that Pansy loved her back.

‘I need the loo,’ Daphne whispered to her sister and gave her hand a quick squeeze, before nodding to the rest and leaving the room. Daphne had been alone when she told her parents all those years ago. She’d grow out of it, they said, after she dated a few men and knew what sex was like.

 

Married. Daphne kept repeating the word in her head. No one had even known Pansy and Astoria were seeing each other. They had already married. Once in the toilet, Daphne splashed cold water on her face and tried to steady her breathing. She fought the voice that said no one would notice she was missing for hours by reminding herself of Astoria’s face the last time she attempted it.

She couldn’t do that to her sister.

Daphne cupped the running water in her hands and drank it. After a few more handfuls, she stood up straight and charmed the tear streaks off her face. Pansy had sat with Daphne all through the night once in that very bathroom, Astoria had been about twelve then, and Pansy had talked her out of swallowing a potion. Daphne should have kissed her then.

Once she deemed herself presentable, she headed back to the sitting room. The conversation flowed freely. Pansy had a job with the _Prophet_ , a weekly column in the society pages. The perfect job for her. Had they cared enough about Daphne to ever enquire about her friends, then their parents would have known that four years prior.

‘Daphne, don’t tug at your pearls you’ll break them.’

 _They’re my bleeding pearls to break_ , she wanted to scream at her mother. Instead she concentrated on not glaring as she forced her hand back into her lap. Not fidgeting was impossible. No one in the room knew what they were asking of her. Pansy had been the reason Daphne came out to her parents all those years ago.

She had to force a smile. Pretend to be okay. After so much work and so much money had been spent on making Daphne better, she couldn’t allow herself to mess up again.

Their father brought out the family albums and then pushed his daughters away so he and wife could sit on either side of Pansy and show them off: the time the girls were picking up walnuts from the yard and went tumbling down the hill, Christmases, birthdays, and ‘Oh, Daphne was always such a grumpy thing,’ her mother complained, but Daphne remembered the reasons behind her frowns in every picture.

‘Don’t tug at your pearls, Daphne.’

‘Astoria looks better in the green, you should wear the silver.’

‘I thought you were the one to ask for the paints, love.’

‘Stand up straight; you look like a toad when you slouch.’

There was a picture—the first Astoria ever took—where Daphne smiled down at a card. It was from Pansy, on Christmas when they were thirteen. Her mother commented, ‘See, here you could almost pass for pretty.’

Daphne looked and didn’t recognise herself at first. She couldn’t “pass for pretty”, she had been pretty.

It had never mattered. The idea that had she only been beautiful like her sister she would have received more love was false. It was in this moment of understanding that the sun glinted off Pansy ring. Daphne choked on the air that became thicker around her, and she realised that it was a matter of when and not if she would kill herself in the end. There was only so much amount of pain any person could take and she was reaching her limit.

‘Malfoy is having a dinner party this Saturday, you’re coming aren’t you?’ Pansy’s fingertips brushed her arm to gain her attention. Daphne, who hadn’t been informed or invited, shook her head.

‘Oh you must come,’ Astoria said, ‘It has been too long since you’ve been out.’

Pansy agreed, their parents agreed, and so Daphne agreed.

She promised, and Astoria insisted they plan out what she’d wear. Everyone had missed her, so she should make the effort to show she missed them too. Pansy rolled her eyes behind Astoria’s back at that and warmth filled her as they shared a little secret. It disappeared as Pansy took Astoria’s hand. Saturday was much too far away. Would she even be alive then to wear the blue dress with white collar or the red one with the sloped neck?

‘What did you think goes the best with pearls,’ Astoria asked Pansy. ‘Daphne loves her pearls.’

Pansy gave her this particular set. They had been her grandmother’s and her mother let Pansy have half her jewellery when she died. Pansy had picked the pearls out for Daphne, as she was more a diamond girl herself.

Daphne survived until Saturday. Astoria refused to allow her to dress alone. ‘How depressing, half the fun of going to dinner parties is the pre-party getting ready for it.’ Yet, as much as Daphne loved Astoria and as much as she loved Pansy, being in a room with them together without anyone else to focus on was like being fourteen all over again and carrying deadly potions in her pockets, purposely knocking into people in hopes of to get caught with them.

When Astoria ran to her room to get her hairbrush, Daphne found that being alone with Pansy was worse. There was much left unsaid between them, but for her part Daphne had no intention of saying any of it.

‘I should have told you,’ Pansy said, ‘I want you to know I am sorry for that.’ She wouldn’t look at Daphne, busy instead with pressing imaginary wrinkles out of the dresses lying about Daphne’s bed. ‘I wanted to tell you, not just about Astoria, but before that I mean. That I liked girls—like you.’

Daphne stared at Pansy. She came out to Pansy prior to telling even her parents. She should have come to Daphne first. What reason did she have to not confide in Daphne?

Astoria entered before Pansy could say anymore.

‘Here, love,’Astoria said, ‘I’ll do your hair.’

There weren’t many people at Malfoy Manor that evening. Blaise, Theodore, and Millicent chatted with Malfoy, when they entered. Mrs Malfoy sat with them during dinner and picked a her food, but left them afterwards. Everyone did seem genuinely pleased she had come with her sister and Pansy. Apparently Malfoy had not been informed of her release from the hospital three months prior, and Daphne hadn’t bothered contacting anyone herself.

‘How is being back,’ Malfoy asked. They sat off from the rest of their friends near the fireplace.

Daphne shrugged in response and took a sip of wine.

‘Everyone keeps trying to get me to go outside—Blaise even tried to talk me into hunting.’

She snorted. ‘You? You don’t even eat meat, and if I remember correctly, faint at the sight of blood.’

‘I don’t faint anymore...unless there is a lot of it.’

Daphne raised an eyebrow. Their definitions of “a lot” differed greatly. She shifted to watch her sister and Pansy on the other side of the room.

Malfoy snorted. ‘Did you know that Pansy used to fancy you?’

A chill swept through her. Of course she had had no idea. Pansy looked up then and their eyes met.

‘She came out to me about it...well, when I came out to her. She was so upset when you went away, after everything that happened, it was the worst time to lose one of her best friends.’ He paused watched the two girls together as well. ‘It has always amazed me how well Astoria dealt with everything happening around her. The rest of us were falling apart or losing our minds and she just kept going, trying to hold us all together.’

‘Of course, she did well, she had everyone’s support.’ Daphne’s voice was hollow. She was only half listening, but she got the gist of what he was saying.

Malfoy bit his lip and looked away. ‘I think we all envied her that. The Carrows never made her torture others and—’

‘—therefore, the others didn’t look down on her as much as the rest of us. I know how it works, Malfoy, she’s my sister. Despite popular belief, I’ve never envied her. I’ve always been happy for her.’

Daphne loved her sister and had never wanted to hurt her, but she couldn’t help but wonder: did Pansy still have feelings for her?

It didn’t matter, it was too late.

She was always too late.

When Daphne started to cry, Malfoy guided her out of the room. He didn’t say a word, just let her cry in peace until she felt like talking. ‘I was too late. They were releasing me and you couldn’t handle it. I promised to visit every day, but I was getting better and they needed rooms in the hospital more than I needed to be there.’

‘It wasn’t about you,’ Malfoy said.

‘I came by the next day, but they’d said you’d already gone. You were already gone. You couldn’t handle one night, how was I not supposed to feel responsible? We supported each other and I was getting better while you weren’t.

‘You saved my life. How am I supposed to live with not saving yours?’

Malfoy’s arms were crossed and glared at the wall. ‘It’s not your fault, Daphne. I’ve been dying since the day I was born. It was always a matter of “when”, and never of “if”.’ He reached out as if to touch her, to put his arm around her—as he had so many times before—but stopped before his hand went through her.

It still sent chills up her arm.

‘Is the pain gone?’

He stared at her.

‘Now that you no longer having a body, did it fix anything?’

‘No—it’s different. Like before you could hold me and it would make it not so bad, but now there’s no body for anyone to hold to help it. Mostly I’m numb, but sometimes it’s like an itch that you can’t find the right spot to scratch, because that piece of you is gone.’

‘I can’t do this.’ She shook her head. ‘Draco, I can’t come by, visit you and pretend you’re still alive. You are a ghost.’ Daphne took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to say goodnight to our friends and go home. I will not be coming back.’

She couldn’t tell if he accepted it or not from his expression. He had to have known Daphne would be upset, angry at him. She had told him she’d never forgive him, if he killed himself. Draco said nothing, until she was slipping back into the sitting room; and then it was a whisper that she couldn’t be sure was real.

It sounded like him, and it was just what Daphne had hoped Draco would say when she went to visit him: ‘I like your pearls.’ He had fancied them just as much as she did.


End file.
